


Idiots in love

by Nalyra



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: #AccidentalSex8, Accidental Sex, Canon Compliant, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Lost Bet, M/M, Music, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Swearing, Teasing, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 19:42:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13371780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalyra/pseuds/Nalyra
Summary: A chicken claw, swearing and 80s music.____________________________Written for Sirenja's prompts:#ACCIDENTALSEX 8: “I LOST A BET TO YOU AND THE CIRCUMSTANCES WERE SUPPOSED TO BE A JOKE BUT I TOOK THEM SERIOUSLY” SEX##################I swear to god this was planned differently, but those two idiots literally do what they want anyway.I hope you like it, hope it fits for you as well (well, a bit^^).





	Idiots in love

It was a silly comment that triggered their sparring, setting the tone, triggering… everything that happened later. Or at least it seemed that way in the early morning hours, months later.   
Sprung from Will’s not truly witty comment on the way the middle toe of the chicken foot used as decorations in the hallway seemed to flip the bird at everyone coming in, the words running from his mouth, flippantly, seemingly bypassing his brain.

„Fuck you or chicken out, and nothing in between… should I be worried? Or should you?“

Hannibal seems to pause in mid-step, his lips twitching before he continues to the kitchen in their vast hacienda, the coolness of the interior utterly soothing after the long walk back from the market. They had moved in here two months ago, stop three in their journey together after the fall, things unsaid heavy in the air between them. Their little run from the law, together. Hannibal’s voice pulls him back, vaguely amused.

„You never chicken out, Will, as you so poignantly put it. I do not see anything to worry about though.“

Will narrows his eyes, reaching out to pluck the foot from the decoration. He holds it up, turning it so the middle claw is directed at Hannibal, grinning.

„So it is the ‚fuck you‘ after all…“

Hannibal pauses again and Will freezes slightly, his heart picking up speed, suddenly very aware of what he had actually said and the way Hannibal is trying not to look at him while putting away the groceries. How they never talk about this, even though they spend every waking moment in each others company. How they sleep in separate bedrooms, just living together without pushing any boundaries. Will licks his lips, retreating once more, stepping back out into the foyer to put the claw back carefully. Hannibal’s voice rings out to him, his tone very collected and deliberately light at the same time.

„Why the crude remarks though, Will?“ 

Will pulls a face, flipping his finger towards the little claw before turning around, watching Hannibal move in the kitchen, mulling over the words. He sighs through his nose, his voice quiet.

„I don’t know. Sometimes… I feel like expressing the energy through crudeness will alleviate some of the strain.“

Hannibal chuckles, his tone reflecting some humor, easily skipping over Will’s comment.

„I prefer to not swear.“

Will snorts, head tilting, tone teasing but worrying the bone nonetheless.

„No, you prefer to release tension through different means…“

Hannibal shoots him a quick look, locking eyes with Will just for a moment, the energy behind his gaze punching right into Will’s stomach.

„Though we haven’t employed this particular form of extracurricular activity for a long time, have we.“

Will swallows, his grin a bit forced.

„No, we have not.“

He watches Hannibal unpack the meat, glistening on the counter, the slight coppery tang watering his mouth. Hannibal gets out a knife to cut it down into small pieces for lunch and Will cannot help it, he has to diffuse the unspoken challenge. 

„I bet I could make you swear though.“

Hannibal chuckles again, the knife glinting in the soft light.

„I would see you try.“

Will smiles, sharply, stepping up to the counter. He picks up a morsel of raw meet, closing his eyes for just a moment as he puts it on his tongue, feeling the new line in his cheek as he grins.

„Is that a challenge?“

Hannibal spears another morsel with the tip of the knife and holds it out to Will. Will hesitates and then leans forward, taking it off with his mouth directly, feeling how Hannibal shifts the angle in the last second, the impression of heat on Will’s tongue mixing with the flavor of the meat. Will narrows his eyes, chewing slowly, the taste different now. He swallows, watching Hannibal watch him, the air suddenly crackling between them.

„Yes.“

Will snorts, the tension gone again as suddenly as it appeared and he snags another piece off the board, turning away to go out into the courtyard, throwing the words over his shoulder.

„Very well. I’ll have you swear your mouth off, Dr. Lecter.“

Hannibal chuckles with him, resuming his preparations, the light chop-chop sounds carrying, like echoes of a heartbeat.

 

******

 

Will tries with a few ‚accidental‘ annoyances first. Letting the newspaper lie around in the wrong place, not drinking up the extra for him ground cup of coffee. Not wearing a dress shirt for dinner but a ripped t-shirt, watching as Hannibal cannot help but eye the way it clings. He doesn’t really expect any swearing and there isn’t any, Hannibal takes it all in stride, seemingly unfazed. He just smiles at Will, a sparkle in his eyes, making it clear he knows and Will clicks his tongue, smiling back, helpless to do otherwise.

He spends his evenings just before sleep imagining new little … teasing implements now, instead of staring at the ceiling, watching the shadows move, the light playing tricks on his memory, the embrace they shared on the cliff a distant memory, diluted by the time they spent in fever and pain, soft touches and not enough blood.   
After two weeks of this little game he admits to himself he isn’t doing it for the challenge anymore but to have Hannibal smile at him, the reaction to his antics a craved thing now. He swallows and then turns to his side, his gaze falling on the announcement of a 80s party in the next towns biggest club, a memory entering his mind, making him chuckle. He burrows into the pillow, imagining, wondering.

 

******

 

It’s surprisingly easy to make Hannibal go with him, all he needs to do is ask. He grins when Hannibal shows up in tailored pants and a dark shirt, offsetting Will’s ripped t-shirt and blue jeans nicely. The breeze ruffles his hair when they take off, the convertible open in the warm night air, the moon high above them as they make their way over to the next town, the winded road empty.

They park two blocks away, walking over slowly, filing in with others close to their age, Will grinning to himself at the obvious distaste Hannibal shows for just a moment at the way the club is run down. The music blast through them immediately though, „Blinded by the light“ throwing Will back for a moment in his mind, laughing out loud, leaning close to Hannibal.

„Oh god, I just remembered a very embarrassing instance of me dancing with eyes closed and not realizing everyone else had vacated the dance floor because of my hurtling movements.“

He chuckles, missing the flash in Hannibal’s eyes when he turns back, starting to bop up and down a bit subconsciously. The presence at his back shifts and fades and then returns, Will’s neck prickling and he smiles to himself, holding out his hand without looking back. The bottle of beer is cool in his hand and Will takes a deep swig, soaking up the energy of the people around them. „Sunglasses at night“ starts blasting from the speakers and Will grins, moving forward on a whim, putting his bottle on a little table on his way to the dance floor. He feels Hannibal follow, staying outside the swaying circle of bodies, like a guarding shadow.

Will closes his eyes and grins, remembering, trying to fall into the rhythm, extending his consciousness to the mood of the crowd. The weight of Hannibal’s gaze feels like a lead weight and he licks his lips, letting his head fall back, starting to move to the music. It shifts into „Love is a battle field“ and Will’s grin turns brittle, the scar on his stomach throbbing heavily for a moment. He presses his hand over it, bearing down, his lashes wet suddenly and he shakes his head, harsh movements to the beat, buffeted against other bodies. Silver tracks down his left cheek and he doesn’t care, knowing Hannibal can see, can probably even smell it. He pushes forward to the center of the dance floor, sweaty already, the atmosphere charged, the dance floor packed, people pressing up to him, some hands wandering none too innocently and Will wonders for a split second if their owners will still have them in their possession by the end of the night, letting himself fall into grinding when the music shifts again, „Black Velvet“ throbbing seductively. There is a hand that shifts under his shirt from behind, dragging across the scar and Will starts and then frowns in severe irritation, his eyes flashing open and then the hand is gone suddenly, replaced by Hannibal’s scorchingly ice-cold presence, and accompanied by words that Will cannot understand but which he can feel even better, hissed at whoever is behind Will.

„Pasiklysti, asile.“

Will stops, breathing heavily, not turning around. He waits until Hannibal returns his gaze to him, locked in place, watching as Hannibal almost vibrates with fury, the person suit nonetheless intact, the few signs visible only for Will so easily discernible. Hannibal’s eyes are black, something vaguely sharklike in them and they flit back at the person at Will’s back and Will is suddenly very much aware that dinner plans are made this very second. He swallows and then reaches for Hannibal’s hand with both of his, pushing it up under his shirt, placing the palm over the middle of his smile. There is a sharp inhale and then the eyes are back, boring into his, and Will smiles again, waveringly, his eyes flitting back and forth, voice only loud enough for Hannibal’s ears.

„You swore for me.“

Hannibal tilts his head and lowers it a bit, blinking once, his lips twitching, voice still cold. 

„It appears so.“

He swallows and Will echoes the motion, feeling Hannibal’s fingertips press into his skin, like scorching needles, spreading fire. Hannibal’s voice is raw when he continues, never breaking their gaze.

„You won your bet then, mylimasis. Will you claim your prize?“

Will shakes his head once, brows furrowing, voice coming haltingly, everything around them fading into a black mass of background noise, his senses focusing sharply.

„I… the bet was a joke, Hannibal, I never took it seriously… and I didn’t think you would?“ 

Hannibal frowns and looks away and Will tightens his grip on Hannibal’s wrist when he feels him pull back, holding Hannibal’s hand against his skin with strength now. Someone bumps into them and Will stumbles, still holding onto Hannibal’s hand, their bodies pressing together for a moment, hands trapped between them. And just like that it falls into place, the whiff of aftershave enough to make Will inhale deeply, to feel his body respond, to feel the heat. He blinks, very slowly and then breathes in again, deliberately, deeply, before pulling Hannibal backwards with him, just pushing his way through the people, ignoring those he bumps into. Hannibal comes after him, half a step behind, cat-like grace keeping him from stumbling, his eyes taking everything in before they return to Will’s again and again. They reach the edge of the dance floor and Hannibal’s hand presses forward suddenly, his left coming up to hold onto Will’s wrist on his own, steering them now, away, away from the center of attention. They reach the little passage to the restrooms and Hannibal pushes them into a little alcove with a broken phone, the swinging doors hiding nothing much from view, lower legs and upper bodies unhidden. And yet it feels as if they’re alone suddenly, the little space cramped and filled up to the brim with their bodies, people hustling by, laughing, a foot away. 

The air is heavy again between them, breaths coming sharply. Hannibal drops his gaze down to their hands and shifts his hand on Will’s stomach, his thumb pressing along the line of scarred tissue on Will’s smile, trailing fire. Will loosens his right hand’s grip, ghosting his hand up slowly, his heart beating in his throat. He lets his fingers thread through Hannibal’s hair, tightening his grip by increments, feeling the exact moment that Hannibal gives with a sigh, sending a rush of desperate arousal through Will. Hannibal pushes forward and there is nothing more to do than raise one’s head and Will meets Hannibal’s mouth with a groan, the corresponding moan echoing through them both. Deep, wet heat, stroking, devouring kisses, swallowing moans and grunts, chasing the elusive taste that they create together, addictive and pure. Someone whistles at them going by and Hannibal growls into the kiss and Will tightens his grip, releasing his other hand to grab Hannibal’s waist, pulling him closer. He shifts his stance and they align, drawing a deep moan from both of them, the need to rut irresistible, clothes catching. Will breaks the kiss with a wet sound, gasping for breath, feeling Hannibal latch onto his throat immediately, kisses and little bites in-between wet breaths, sending shivers down his spine. Will gasps the words out, eyes heavily-lidded, unseeing on the ceiling, his fingers kneading the silvery hair in between them.

„Are we really going to have accidental sex in a run down club?“

Hannibal groans against Will’s skin, sucking a mark over his Adam’s apple before answering. 

„Was this not what you came here to force, mylimasis?“

Will shakes his head a bit, careful not to dislodge Hannibal.

„No, I only wanted to… make you smile and have a good time. To make us … lighten up a bit and maybe trigger a talk or something…“

He breaks off, groaning when Hannibal bites into the curve of his neck, none too gently, licking the imprints of his teeth after. Will licks his lips, eyes closed now, feeling Hannibal push the shirt away to have more room, the sharp bite traveling directly to his groin. The shirt tears a bit and Will moans a laugh, feeling Hannibal latch on even more tightly, worrying the skin now, making Will hiss. Will pushes his hand down Hannibal’s back and into his pants, feeling the muscles shift as Hannibal adapts his stance to give Will more room, the implications mind-boggling. Hannibal licks a broad stripe up the column of Will’s throat, pressing an almost chaste kiss to the left corner of his mouth after, the words whispered, raw, shuddering through them both.

„Left front pocket. I was waiting for you to make me loose, Will.“

Will turns his head, his eyes opening to lock with Hannibal’s blackish red, flitting back and forth. Hannibal continues, something soft and vulnerable entering his features. 

„Did you truly think I would fall with you and not give up everything for you, Will?“

Will swallows harshly, his throat constricted by unspoken words. He forces them out by sheer force of mind.

„In all the time since then, you never gave any indication that you wanted to do more than that… why?“

Hannibal smiles at him, beatifically, pushing close to nose along Will’s jaw. 

„I have learned the hard way that there is no use pushing you, Will, as is no use to pushing at water. You had to lead and I had to yield.“

Hannibal leans forward even more, his stubble rasping along Will’s, his breath hot on Will’s ear, making him shiver. 

„Lead now, and I’ll yield, mylimasis.“

Will groans deeply, arousal slamming down, making him light headed, Hannibal’s tongue in his ear not helping, his jeans too tight. He turns his head and claims Hannibal’s mouth, their teeth clashing in a bloody kiss, sharp teeth tearing into lips. The coppery tang breaks his last resistance and he pushes Hannibal away suddenly, dropping his hands to fumble at Hannibal’s belt. Hannibal helps him, gusts of panted breath mixing hot in the air between them. Will shoves his hand into the front pocket to find the little pouch and push it into his own front pocket, shifting to push the pants down right after, the heat of Hannibal’s arousal gliding across the skin of his right hand. He drops his gaze, shifting so his body hides Hannibal from view and then grips him lightly, surreality coloring every impression. He raises his eyes back up to Hannibal’s, his expression slack, echoed by Hannibal. He raises his eyebrows, mouth opening and then pushes his thumb over the slit, spreading the precome, watching as Hannibal’s mouth drops open and so he does it again, pushing at the foreskin a bit. More precome is his reward and Will snarls suddenly, giving a pull and drawing a moan before he removes his hand, turning Hannibal around by his hip. Will pushes close, heart hammering in his throat, his left hand coming up to hold Hannibal to him by pushing against his chest, just over his heart, his right hand dropping to pull his jeans open, just enough to free himself. Hannibal pushes back a bit with a sigh and Will hisses, pulling the little pouch out and opening it with his teeth, putting it on the dead phone next to them after lubing his fingers up. He carefully opens Hannibal up, trying to not move too much, the tight heat around his fingers taking all of his concentration, listening closely to the shifts in Hannibal’s breathing. When he inserts a third finger Hannibal drops his head back and Will presses a kiss to his temple, groaning with him when he finds his target. He pulls out and lubes himself up with the rest, shifting slightly to line up. Hannibal reaches back and grabs Will’s hips, bending back to catch Will’s lips for a moment.

„Please.“

Will bites at Hannibal’s lips for a moment and then pushes his hips forward, opening his mouth in a silent scream when heat envelops him, Hannibal shuddering heavily around him. He reaches around and grips Hannibal’s cock, tightening his hand in rhythm with shallow thrusts, careful not to move too much, giggles drifting over to them from people outside. He chuckles and catches Hannibal’s mouth again, his movements aligning with the beat of the music still hammering around them slowly, taking away the urgency, replacing it with a surreal levity. He starts to sway a bit to the music, letting the movement dictate the thrusts, Starship’s „Nothing’s gonna stop us now“ bringing them ever closer to the precipice until the fall is irresistible once more. Will swallows Hannibal’s moan down, stilling until the pleasure crests, shaking arms cradling Hannibal to himself. Clapping sounds and cat whistles sound outside in the corridor and Hannibal shifts slightly, grumbling very low.

„I think I might need to kill them.“

Will snorts and then pushes his forehead into Hannibal’s shoulder repeatedly, hissing when he pulls out, pressing the side of his face against Hannibal’s for a split second. He presses a kiss against Hannibal’s sweaty temple, mumbling.

„Not today.“

He pulls Hannibal’s pants up and then makes himself respectable again, well as respectable as possible, waiting until Hannibal turns towards him, looking positively ravaged. Will reaches up and pushes a stray lock of hair out of Hannibal’s eyes, suddenly serious.

„No chicken claws strategically placed around the house again, Hannibal. You may not able to push me to do anything anymore, but strong strokes of decisive action definitely yield reactions faster, right? Paddles on water bring you forward after all.“

Will takes the sting out with a grin at the end, watching the lewd counterpart echo on Hannibal’s face.

„Strong strokes, mylimasis?“

Will clicks his tongue, unable to suppress the grin.

„Now, don’t get cheeky, Dr. Lecter.“

Will laughs at the incredulous expression this triggers and then pulls Hannibal back out, grinning outright at the little crowd cheering them on, his grip on Hannibal’s wrist a vice. „Ghostbusters“ starts blasting and Will whoops in delirious delight and turns to the dance floor, utterly ignoring Hannibal’s expression of horror. 

 

******

 

It’s the early morning hours when they return and Will drags himself up to the shower, utterly high on emotion and hormones, his body sated and his emotions calm. He washes himself and towels off, slinging one around his hips and wandering into his room to get his pajamas, laughing outright when he sees the chicken claw on his otherwise empty bed, the blanket and pillows gone. He takes it, walking over to Hannibal’s room and waves it at him, gleefully interrupting the making of his, no their bed. 

„So what’s this doing in my bed?“

Hannibal pauses and looks at him, eyes crinkling at the corners, his tone warm.

„Your former bed. Well, it served it’s purpose once more. I love your laugh, Will.“

Will lowers the chicken claw, throwing it onto the chair in the corner. He shakes his head, wandering over to Hannibal slowly, mirth coloring his tone.

„We are idiots, Hannibal.“

He loosens the towel and lets it drop, swallowing Hannibal’s confirmation down in a deep kiss, the words not needed.

Idiots in love.

**Author's Note:**

> ____________
> 
> Comments and feedback welcome, kudos feed my muse :)


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